


measure of infinity

by alchemystique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she’d met Baelfire, some years ago now, the idea that she’d been meant for something special had drawn her in. She’d been thrilled to learn that all those strange things that had kept her on the streets, kept her from earning the loving family she so desired, that those things made her different. Remarkable, even, she’d been told. Realm jumpers were few and far between, and even then, more often than not they used tools to help them get to where they wanted to go. Emma, Bae had said, was something altogether different, her abilities almost an unconscious thing, but he’d told her to be careful of them, to learn to control them, because there was danger in what she did. The ease with which she could stitch herself into a new reality was something he’d yearned for his whole life - but he’d been terrified of it, too. </p><p>Magic, he had told her, always comes at a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	measure of infinity

**Author's Note:**

> an au i may or may not continue that i couldn’t get out of my head after comic con stuff started coming out. title completely and irreverently stolen from the late great terry pratchett.

On the list of things Emma particularly enjoyed doing, running was nowhere near the top. In fact, if given the choice, Emma would prefer to do just about anything but run.

Still. It was either run or let the bastards on her tail catch her, and on the list of things she liked less than running, being caught by the sanctimonious pricks chasing after her was somewhere near the top. 

When she’d met Baelfire, some years ago now, the idea that she’d been meant for something special had drawn her in. She’d been thrilled to learn that all those strange things that had kept her on the streets, kept her from earning the loving family she so desired, that those things made her different. Remarkable, even, she’d been told. Realm jumpers were few and far between, and even then, more often than not they used tools to help them get to where they wanted to go. Emma, Bae had said, was something altogether different, her abilities almost an unconscious thing, but he’d told her to be careful of them, to learn to control them, because there was danger in what she did. The ease with which she could stitch herself into a new reality was something he’d yearned for his whole life - but he’d been terrified of it, too. 

Magic, he had told her, always comes at a price.

Once upon a time, she’d thought he was just being paranoid.

While she could hardly call this a strategic jump, it did have it’s advantages.

The bazaar was busy, the press of bodies tight around her making it easy to slip into the crowds, a haze descending on her from various vendors smoking meats, the tapestries and bright silks making it difficult to spot her as she made her way deeper into the throngs of the marketplace.

Her pursuers stood out here, in their heavy brocades and velvets, their castle forged steel and heavy boots, and Emma felt no small bit of pleasure as she heard one of them cry out in frustration as a tiny woman wheeled a cart twice her size across the length of the alleyway. She turned her head to watch the woman stop midway across, blocking any from continuing their path, and over the edge of the cart she caught the eye of one of her would-be captors, grinning and shooting him a salute as he tore off his helm. 

She lingered, just a moment, to watch as the woman with the cart began to berate the knights, a tiny, wrinkled finger pointed towards them, her words loud and angry, though Emma did not know the language she spoke. 

Emma winked, one last time, just because she could, and slipped into the crowd, nimble fingers lifting a scrap of silk off the edge of a stall while the man behind it was busy arguing the price of a bolt with an annoyed looking woman who dressed far below her station, if the fine bauble around her ankle was anything to go by.

As she moved deeper, into the dim light of the curved archways that led towards the baths, she tucked the braid of her hair beneath the collar of her vest, fingers working to drape the silk over the crown of her head - she’d have been better off changing her clothes entirely, but the old lady with the cart would only hold off those following her for so long, and an overhaul of her wardrobe would take up those precious minutes she’d gained to make herself scarce.

She twisted and turned, ducking around as many corners as she could, careful not to lose herself in the labyrinth of halls and alleyways which took her further and further into the depths of the city.

The heavy scent of spices drifted past her as the crowds around her began to thin, the hanging fabrics lining the pathways thinning out until Emma could see the beginnings of twilight darkening the sky above, the noise of the marketplace falling away until all she could hear were her own footsteps across the cobblestones, her ragged breath as she began to slow her pace from a run. 

She’d been in this city only once before, and she wondered that her mind had thought of it now, with Rumplestiltskin’s men after her and Baelfire’s betrayal still stinging.

He’d taken her here, or rather, she’d taken him - he’d told her tales of the man he’d once known who’d spoken of such a realm, of the bright fabrics and the ornate pottery, the exotic spices and the beautiful jewels, the strange tongues the people spoke and the mazes of interconnected buildings and squares that seemed to make the whole city seem one overlarge castle. 

They’d stolen twelve purses off fat men in fine clothes, and feasted on strange smoked meats with rich sauces, sweet breaded concoctions Emma had never found a match for, they’d danced to music that Emma had never heard before, fucked beneath stars so full and bright it felt almost as light as a sunlit day, and they’d curled up together on a rooftop, laughing together until they nodded off to sleep.

He’d told her about his time in Neverland - a tale that had held Emma’s rapt attention, if not for the sadness of an island of lost boys, than certainly for the ones of quick and clever fairies, and vicious mermaids, and the occasional pirate.

He didn’t like the pirate stories, overmuch, and Emma had always tried not to push, but they’d always been the ones she wanted to hear most. Perhaps she’d only desired them because he held them under such secrecy. 

In light of her current outlaw status, and the exhilaration of once again escaping her captors, she thought perhaps not.

Near the edge of the marketplace Emma found a man smelling smoked lamb, and pressed an extra piece of gold into his hand when he eyed the wisps of gold hair she’d failed to hide beneath her makeshift scarf. 

She ate perched on a roof above the city, eyes keeping careful watch for any of the men she’d managed to lose so successfully, but luck seemed to be turning in her favor.

For a moment, at least.

As she slipped back into the shadows of the city, full dark settling in streets lit by torchlight, Emma tried to plan out her next move - she could jump, again, and perhaps twice more before the effort of summoning that kind of magic exhausted her completely, but it seemed lately that the more she did so, the easier it became for Rumple’s men to find her. 

No. She’d have to hole up here for a while, make herself scarce until she came up with a more permanent solution.

Emma swung around a corner, intent on a run down building just ahead that looked just abandoned enough to make a good resting place for the night, when she felt herself being yanked into a shadowy alcove just off the street. 

Her body reacted without thought - she spun and kicked and attempted to elbow her way free, shoving away from the grasping hand, preparing herself to run once again, but she paused as a familiar voice cut through the darkness. 

“Bloody hell, woman, give us a warning next time, yeah?”

Will Scarlet. Of course. She hadn’t seen the man in years - not since he’d decided to take up with the likes of that mad man with the hat. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Well I suppose I’m gettin’ beat to death by a fine looking lady, ain’t I? ‘s how I always wanted to go, ‘f I’m bein’ honest. Go on then, Emma. Be quick about it.”

Nothing about his flippant words eased her mind. Will had been close with Bae - closer than he’d ever been with Emma, truth be told - and it was Bae who’d sent the hounds out after her scent. Bae who’d whispered her secrets in the ear of a man who thought her particular gift might be especially useful to him.

Bae who’d sold her out to the father he’d always told her ruined his life.

“What are you doing here, Scarlet?”

A different voice cut through the air, and in the dim light Emma squinted, annoyed with herself for missing a second assailant, even in such darkness. “He’s doing a favor for me, actually.” There was something in the accent that seemed a bit like Will’s, but this one was far more refined, richer and more pronounced. He sounded more than a little Lordly, and Emma cut her gaze to the doorway even as she heard the second man press across the far edge of the room. “I believe I have an offer that would prove mutually beneficial, love, and I’d like to discuss it with you.”

“So you thought sending Scarlet to haul me off into a dark empty room was your best option for securing a discussion?”

She heard an amused huff of laughter, and watched as he slipped into a shaft of moonlight falling across the middle of the room. Her gaze followed the line of leather from head to toe - pointed leather boots and slim fitting trousers gave way to a dark velvet vest that hinted at a trim waist, the belt over his hip displaying the pommel of a cutlass she imagined, as she inspected the man further, he’d had plenty of cause to use. The collar of his vest climbed high up his neck, and Emma’s eyes caught the glint of metal hanging low over his uncovered chest in the moment before he turned a bit, exposing his left side to her scrutiny.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his as recognition came.

“And what, pray tell, does Captain Hook think he can offer me?”

His grin was absolutely sinful, the dip of the dimple in his cheek as he smirked at her promising all sorts of horrible deeds, and the bauble dangling from his ear glittered as he kept his eyes on hers. “Why, vengeance, of course.”

There was something about the madness of his gaze as he said the words that drew her in. In all the stories Bae had ever told her, he’d never quite captured this look, the heat and the fire and the blaze of passionate anger - Bae had told her time and again the Hook was nothing more than an opportunist and a mad man, and though Emma could see exactly those things in the jut of his hip and the tick of his jaw, there was something else there, some desperation that Emma knew all too well.

She ignored Will wincing as he stood from the ground where she’d tossed him, and crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head just a bit as she stared consideringly back at the pirate who’s stories had always captured her attention the most.

“I’m listening.”


End file.
